


Baby You're a Comic Con

by SmileAndASong



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Band, Artist Gerard Way, Comic-Con, Cosplay, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Frank Iero Is A Little Shit, Getting Together, M/M, San Diego Comic Con Gerard Way, but i'm starting it, the fact that sdcc gerard ISNT a tag? im hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmileAndASong/pseuds/SmileAndASong
Summary: Frank has no desire whatsoever to go to a comic book convention. He doesn't even like comics!But comic book authors? Now that's another situation entirely.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	Baby You're a Comic Con

**Author's Note:**

> So, we're officially at the point of MCR fanfic writing where Grant Morrison is a featured character. y'know, Gerard might've said "this elevator only goes up to ten", but I think we are loooooong past that.
> 
> but really, this is just something I put together relatively fast to feed my desire for several things: more Frerard fic (it's been months since I've written for them!), comic book conventions/public gatherings, [2010 San Diego Comic Con Gerard Way](https://indifferentignorance.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/twilightxchange-gwcc201010thumb.jpg), and Frank being a lovable fool. So why not put them all together?
> 
> This fic isn't explicitly set at San Diego Comic Con 2010, as it's a very loosely established AU, but you could for sure read it as such. Also, Frank's takes on conventions are not reflective of my own, he's just cranky and only here for the cute blonde authors (which is totally valid!)
> 
> The title is a play on Gerard Way's song, "Baby, You're a Haunted House"
> 
> Fic is unbeta'd, any mistakes are my own. Comments and kudos are always appreciated, thank you so much for taking the time to read!

Never in a million years did Frank think he’d willingly be spending his Saturday afternoon in a sweaty (and slightly smelly) convention center, but unfortunately, there's a first time for everything. So here he is, surrounded by thousands of nerds in colorful spandex and capes, and having just spent the last _hour_ waiting to get a friggin’ Batman comic book signed by some bald dude.

And what’s perhaps most insulting is that bald dude barely gives him the time of day once it’s his turn. He just signs the comic book and hands it back to Frank.

“...that’s it?” Frank says, bluntly. “I waited an hour and that’s all I get?”

“Did you have a question?” Bald Dude says, in a thick accent. Is it British? Irish? Well, he did say to ask a question. 

“Uh, yeah. Your accent. You Irish?” Frank asks.

Bald (Irish?) Dude’s expression drops a little, clearly affronted. “Scottish,” He corrects, sharply. He looks Frank over and smirks. “ _Your_ accent. New York?”

“New Jersey!” Frank corrects, sharply and _very_ affronted.

“Not so fun when’s the other way around, eh?” Bald Irish Dude chuckles and offers a hand to Frank. “I’m just messin’ with you, lad. Thank you for coming, and I’m glad you enjoyed the series.”

He sounds earnest, so really, Frank can’t be too mad at him, as much as he wants to be. He takes the hand and shakes it, forcing a smile and hiding the fact that he knows nothing about the comic this guy thinks he’s a fan of. Because it’s not Frank’s book that got signed -- it’s Ray’s, aka, the only reason Frank is here and being dissed by bald Scottish comic book authors in the first place.

Now Frank is no stranger to ‘nerd shit’, as he so eloquently refers to it. He likes video games, he gushes over all those black and white monster movies, and he’s been a part of a few D&D campaigns, albeit (mostly) against his will. Still, he’s not nearly on the same level as the thousands of other people in this convention center. And despite Ray managing to convince him that, _‘you don’t have to be a fan of comics to have fun at a convention, just come!_ ’, so far, Frank’s not seeing it.

Sort of like how he’s not seeing Ray, and hasn’t seen him since they got here.

When they arrived, Ray handed Frank a bag of things he wanted to get signed, as well as a fucking hand-written schedule for the day, before he rushed off to some panel. It was at that moment that Frank realized that Ray didn’t invite him to the con because ‘it’s fun, man’. No, he invited him so he’d have someone to tote around all of his nerd crap for him. 

Who would’ve thought that, of all the countless people here dressed as supervillains, Ray Toro would be the most cunning and evil of them all?

And speaking of dressed up, Frank has about had it with the costume that Ray, again, managed to coerce him into wearing: _‘you can’t NOT go in a costume, dude, everyone will laugh at you!’_

Frank huffs as he rips the neon red wig off his head; yeah, he’s willing to run the risk of mockery from some guy in an Aquaman costume. 

It’s hot as hell here, and the cheap wig they bought at Walmart is beyond itchy. And it’s not like anyone has even commented or noticed his costume, which he’s actually quite grateful for, considering he barely knows who he’s dressed as. 

He’s a Killjoy...he thinks? He’s not entirely certain. Even so, he doesn’t know what ‘killjoy’ entails outside of wearing Ray’s ‘official’ replica jacket (a very thick blue leather jacket, absolutely perfect for California heat in a crowded convention center), a yellow domino mask, and of course, the stupid Ronald McDonald wig. 

The character is allegedly from some comic book that Ray enjoys (Ray is also dressed as a Killjoy. Not that it matters, considering he’s MIA), that Frank, clearly, has never heard of.

But he’s about to find out a lot (or at least a little) more about it, because when he looks down at what’s next on his damn _schedule_ , he sees: ‘3:00PM: Killjoys signing with Gerard Way, Dark Horse Comics booth’.

Taking out his cell phone, he checks the time: 2:43PM. Just enough time to smoke a cigarette and get some fresh air free of nerd B.O. Perfect.

He scans the busy show floor, looking past the sea of geeks, past all of the vendors selling film accurate lightsabers and creepy anime girl pillows, searching for any door or pathway that leads outside. 

Unfortunately, nothing stands out. God, it’s almost like they are _trying_ to trap him here.

But then, from across the way, he sees a door open and catches a glimpse of, yes, there it is -- sunlight! He makes a dash for it, completely disregarding the ‘Restricted Access Only’ sign on the door.

If he gets thrown out of this convention, it’d be a blessing in disguise.

There’s nothing too exciting waiting for him on the other side of the door; just the backside of the convention center, with a few exterior corridors for easier access for, presumably, the maintenance crew and whatnot. All that really matters is that it’s quiet, decently clean, and he can smoke in peace. Hallelujah.

Rummaging in the pocket of the leather jacket, he grabs his pack of cigarettes and pulls one out, lighting it. He looks through his phone as he smokes, typing out a pestering text to Ray asking where he is and if they can leave soon. He’s about to hit send when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching and he freezes. 

“Shit…” He mumbles, taking one last drag from his cigarette, as he’s fully expecting it to be some convention worker telling him that he can’t be here and that he _definitely_ can’t smoke here.

It’s just one guy who rounds the corner, a curious expression on his face; he looks a few years older than Frank, with shaggy blonde hair, dark sunglasses on his face, and he’s wearing a colorful Hawaiian shirt. 

Weird. Maybe he was looking for the beach or something and got horribly lost. West coast people were kind of slow like that. Frank figured that out very quickly after moving here.

The man looks Frank over and raises an eyebrow. “...are you allowed to be back here?”

“Probably not,” Frank says, shrugging his shoulders. “Are _you_ allowed to be back here?” Why are all the conversations Frank’s having today just the same questions being asked back?

“Um, yes, I am.” The blonde man pushes his sunglasses up to rest atop his head, giving Frank a good look at his eyes. And much like the rest of him, they’re very pretty, wow. “You’re probably not supposed to smoke here.”

“Oh, only probably? I can play with those odds.” Frank smirks a little, standing up from the wall he’s leaning on. “Relax, man, I just needed some air and a minute, it’s fucking exhausting in there. I’ll get moving.”

“Or,” Blonde Man says, taking a step closer. “You could stay and finish your cigarette. And maybe give me one too?”

“I thought we ‘probably’ weren’t supposed to smoke here?” Frank says, his smirk growing wider.

Blonde Man smiles, but only on the one side of his mouth. “You’re alright if you’re with me, don’t worry.”

“Alright, deal.” Frank hands the pack to Blonde Man and takes his lighter out, lighting the cigarette for him. He goes back to leaning against the wall, sticking close to Blonde Man. “So, you said you’re allowed to be back here. You someone important?”

Blonde Man takes a drag from his cigarette, a puzzled expression on his face as he looks at Frank. “Um, I don’t know if I’d say ‘important’. Not normally, anyway. But here I guess I am?“

“Yeah?” Frank asks. “You’re one of the guests at this thing then?” That’s surprising. He certainly doesn’t look like most of the ‘guests’ that Frank’s met thus far. So far, he’s been under the impression that they were all old, bald, European, or, in the case of that Batman comic guy, all three.

“Mhm, I am…” Blonde Man mumbles, his eyes darting down to Frank’s leather jacket and just staring at it, and pretty blatantly, too.

At first, Frank’s confused by the intense stare, but then he remembers what he’s wearing and laughs. “Oh, right, the costume. Pretty lame, huh?” He tugs at the collar of the baggy jacket. “It has a wig too, but it was even dorkier with that on. Bright red, blue, _and_ yellow? These Killjams definitely are not subtle. Tacky, most definitely, christ.”

“Killjoy,” Blonde Man corrects, his lips pursing together into a thin line. “You’re dressed as a Killjoy. Party Poison, to be specific.”

“Oh.” Frank puts out his cigarette, fidgeting with the butt of it. “You know about this comic, I take it?”

Blonde Man nods slowly. “Yes...I’m the author, actually.”

“Seriously? Ha!” Frank exclaims. “No way! So that means you’re--” He rummages in his pocket for his schedule. “--Gerard Way!” He slaps the crumpled piece of paper and laughs again. “Dude, talk about a small world, I was literally just on my way to go to your signing!”

The signing for the comic book that he just called lame, dorky, and tacky to the person -- the very attractive person -- who created it. Shit!

“Uh, hey, listen,” Frank’s gaze shifts to the ground and he rubs at the back of his neck. God, if he wasn’t sweating before, he _definitely_ is now. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I just said. About this--” He gestures to his jacket. “--looking dorky? I’ve never read the comic, I don’t know shit about it. That’s not to say it’s bad or anything! I mean, it must be pretty rad if they invited you to be a guest, right? It's just this convention scene is not my thing at all. I’m only here because my friend tricked me into coming so he could use me to collect autographs from bald Scottish dudes for him. I'm so sorry, I'm so stupid, and I...I’m Frank, hi.”

Frank says it all quickly, which usually happens when he gets flustered, so he’s practically gasping for air once he stops.

Blonde Man -- Gerard Way -- is staring at him, silent for an uncomfortable amount of time before he finally speaks. “Oh, you met Grant?”

 _That_ is what he's taking away from all that?

“...yeah. I did,” Frank mumbles, unable to keep the irritation completely out of his tone.

Gerard beams, that half-smile from before back on his face. “He’s great! One of my favorites, he inspired me to create my own comics! I’d love to collaborate with him someday, that’d be cool.” 

Frank eyes Gerard dubiously. "Right..." Are they thinking of the same person? Because Gerard is gushing over Bald Scottish Dude as if he's some Tom Cruise Hollywood Pretty Boy. And while Frank might not be seeing a lot today (the appeal of these hell cons, Ray Toro, etc.), he is _definitely_ not seeing that.

Gerard clears his throat as he continues and, thankfully, changes the subject. “But uh, you don’t need to apologize, it’s fine. Art is subjective, I know that better than anyone, so not everyone is gonna like your stuff.”

“It’s not that I _don’t_ like your stuff, I just haven’t seen it myself,” Frank explains. “And my only knowledge of it is this costume that I’ve been sweating balls in all day. This leather does not breathe, christ.”

Gerard snorts. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you make a very good Party Poison.”

Frank’s not sure if that’s just Gerard being polite (his costume is terrible and he knows it) or Gerard being flirtatious; the way he’s staring and the genuine way he says it feels like it’s suggesting the latter.

Huh.

“Actually,” Gerard continues. “You really look like one of the other characters in my comic. Fun Ghoul!”

Frank blinks slowly. “Fun Ghoul?”

“Yeah! He…may I?” Gerard points to the Killjoys comic that Frank’s been lugging around all day in the plastic Walmart bag.

“Oh, for sure!” Frank grabs the comic and hands it over.

Gerard thanks him and puts out his cigarette before taking the comic and carefully removing it from the protective case. Ray was very adamant about all the books staying in the cases unless being signed, but considering this is the guy who wrote it, Frank’s pretty sure this is alright. 

“See, him, right here.” Gerard leans a little closer and points at a drawing of a man who actually kind of does look like Frank! He’s got longer hair, and some exaggerated features, of course, seeing as he is a cartoon character, but Frank can definitely see a resemblance. And he’s not insulted at all, no, this Fun Ghoul guy seems cool!

“Wow, I do see it,” Frank says, grinning up at Gerard. “So tell me, is he the coolest and most handsome character in the comic?”

“He’s a little bit egotistical and hot-headed, which gets him into trouble sometimes, but he’s a good guy. He’s very loyal and dedicated to the Killjoys and their cause. He’s one of my favorites in the story for sure.”

“Alright, so he’s cool...but what about handsome?” Frank is definitely not looking his best to be flirting so outwardly, especially after insulting the guy a few minutes prior. But Gerard is out here drawing comparisons to Frank and one of his most beloved creations. 

Surely that means he stands a shot, right?

Gerard’s cheeks tint pink. “Isn’t it a little weird to call drawings attractive?”

“Only if you’re giving them colossal tits and putting them on human sized pillows.” Frank scoffs. “Fucking weirdos.”

“No, no, definitely not doing that,” Gerard refutes, quickly. His cheeks turn a darker shade of red and he tucks a strand of his bright blonde hair behind his ear. “Then, uh, I guess Fun Ghoul is pretty handsome. You can thank my artist for that, she does good work.”

“Yeah? Well, then I’m super flattered you see a resemblance between me and him. A very handsome resemblance,” Frank says, smugly, perhaps too smug given the circumstances.

But it seems to work well on Gerard, who bashfully averts his gaze and smiles down at the ground. It’s been so long since Frank’s successfully flirted with anyone, let alone a guy this good-looking, a guy this pretty. Who would’ve thought it’d happen in the midst of curating autographs for Ray’s collection?

Oh, right, the autograph.

“Not to be an ass--” Frank says, although at this point, it’s more like ‘not to be an even bigger ass’ “--but while I’ve got you here, do you think that you could sign my friend’s comic for me? I really don’t wanna wait in another line, this is worse than fucking Disneyland.”

Gerard laughs, or rather, fucking chortles. It’s definitely a ‘nerdy’ laugh, a touch too loud and piercing, but Frank finds it endearing and so very fitting. He procures a pen from the pocket of his hawaiian shirt and delicately signs the front cover. 

Frank watches him sign, knowing that after he’s done, he’s gonna have to leave to go and meet hundreds of other fans (ones who actually know who he is), thus ending their exchange.

Unless.

“Hey,” Frank says, and Gerard looks up from the comic. “While you’ve got that pen out, you think maybe you could write down your number for me?”

Gerard blinks at Frank. “...you want me to write my phone number for you on your friend’s comic book?”

“I mean, he's a good friend?” Frank says, sheepish. “And he owes me for how much fucking shit I got signed for him today.”

Gerard laughs again, this time a touch quieter, though still in the same vein as that distinct chortle of his. “How about you just give me your phone instead, and I put it in there? That way we don’t diminish the value of your friend’s first edition.”

“I don’t know, if you ask me, a hot blonde’s phone number _definitely_ increases the value,” Frank says, smoothly, as he hands over his cell phone. 

Gerard types in his contact details and holds the phone awkwardly, like he’s a senior citizen who’s never used a smart phone before, and it's absolutely adorable. He hands the phone back to Frank. “Alright, I gotta get going before I’m late to my own signing. But you can message me anytime, I live locally.”

“Awesome, me too.” Frank puts his phone back in his pocket. “And who knows, maybe next convention I’ll dress up as that Fun Ghoul guy I look so much like. Just for you.”

Gerard smiles again, only this time, it’s not a half-smile, but a fully realized one. And it’s absolutely perfect, just as bright and radiant as his slightly too loud laughs. “I look forward to seeing that. And you, of course.” He puts his sunglasses on (isn’t he going inside?) and turns on his heel. “I’ll see you soon, Frank.”

Frank waves goodbye as he watches Gerard disappear into the door back to the show room. He glances down at the ‘XOXO G’ signature on the cover of the comic book and smiles.

Maybe Ray was right. Maybe you don’t have to be a fan of _comics_ to have fun at conventions.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, and as always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://smileandasong.tumblr.com/). please come and yell at me about how gerard way's 2010 sdcc look is one of his all time best anytime :)


End file.
